


four times.

by kenny mccormick (bokutowl)



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, [picks up phone] hello yes i'd like to arrest myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutowl/pseuds/kenny%20mccormick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four times that Kenny McCormick asked permission to marry Butters, and the four times Stephen Stotch said no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	four times.

**Author's Note:**

> do i even have to tell you what song i listened on repeat for an hour and a half while writing this

**1.**

     It was one of the few times that he had agreed mentally to ditch the ever-present parka in favor of a simple button-down green collared shirt-- the shirt, being some of his  _better_  clothing, finally got to see the light again after having a brief show at a college interview. 

     The nice shoes came too, his only pair of nice shoes, and he even combed his hair for a change.

     He was attempting to denounce the dirt associated with himself and his family name, all for one thing--

     Kenny McCormick was on a mission. Or rather, he had an objective to reach.

     The moment he walked out the door, he replayed the potential scenario, the things he could say, the things he  _should_  say, over and over again in his mind. He had practiced, in a mirror, again and again. If he should smile, how much he should smile, if he should offer his hand for shaking, if, if,  _if._

Driving... he decided to drive there, in the car he had worked for over three years in order to earn, lips set in concentration as he stared down the road. Alright. First smile, ask the pleasantries, then dive right in to the question-- the question that, if Stephen Stotch was smart, would know was coming. Had been coming. For quite a while now, actually. 

     Anyway.

     Kenny took a deep breath the moment he parked outside of the large house, not even bothering to look up at the window to see if Butters was home; he knew for a fact he wasn't. 

     Holy shit. How much courage did something like this  _take_? He's been blown to bits, sent into fucking orbit and had his head chopped off. But a couple words? They've got the blond's chest in knots, his stomach filled with every fluttery bug known on this goddamn Earth. 

     But then-- then he was at the front door, hand poised to knock. Knock, or... ring the door bell? Which one would be better? Did it even fucking matter?

     So he knocked. Three times. Crisp, clean. And then he waited.

     It was only like, thirty seconds, a minute at most, before the door creaked open, Butters' father staring down at him, already with a frown. Alright. Show time.

     "Kenny... McCormick." Every single time, without fail, Stephen would say Kenny's full name-- the younger knew it was like a brand, like a reminder of the lineage he came from. The lesser lineage. It was as if it was completely known that Kenny was trying everything in his damn abilities to completely rid himself of that family stigma; after all, he was the first McCormick in a long time to have been accepted into, and even to be  _going_  to college. 

     ( Criminology, he told himself. It sound rad as hell and he had always loved crime-fighting. )

     "Hello... sir." Alright. He had practiced this, remember? At least a hundred times. Probably more than a hundred times. He took a massive breath of air, balling his fists beside the seams of his pleated pants. "I need to ask you a question. It-- It shouldn't take long at all." And he stood a little straighter. 

     It looked like Stephen was debating even allowing the question in the first place, and Kenny found himself holding his breath so long that he was sure he'd pass out in the near future. And the moment he was starting to feel that lightheadedness, he saw the vague nodding of the other's head. 

     Remember: he had practiced. Practiced.

     Another massive breath, and he said slowly, carefully. "I want to marry your son." Okay, shit, that wasn't a question. "I mean-- May I have permission. To ask your son to marry me."

     "No."

________

**2.**

 

     Rejection-- well, it hit like a shit ton of bricks. Knocked the wind out of him, made him dumbfounded for a couple moments or minutes, until he blinked himself back into sanity.

     But Kenny McCormick, if anything, wasn't a guy to give up on the first try.

     Maybe three or four days later, he was back at the Stotch doorstep, back in that clean-cut clothing he only had a couple outfits of.

     This time, though, he didn't even have to knock. He stood there for a couple seconds until the door opened and--

     "No. The answer is still no."

     "Why?" The McCormick's lips were pulled into a deep frown, eyebrows set in a staring glare that matched the stare of the man before him. 

     "You know why."

     He was right. 

_________

**3.**

     

     Now it was a week later. A bright day outside, there were birds chirping and flowers blooming-- or some shit like that.

     He did actually have to knock this time, the nervousness gone-- now there was determination. He was in his last clean-cut outfit. A simple orange polo and a pair of khaki slacks, shined shoes, and combed hair. This time, he reasoned, this time he'd stay. He wasn't going to leave.

     ( Really, he's surprised that there hasn't been a restraining order placed on him yet. It wasn't like the Stotch parents were the most  _rational_  of people. )

     Kenny's knuckles only knocked twice-- and then the door opened again.

     Before Stephen could say anything, though, Kenny pulled out a folder and handed it to the other. "Here." Pointing at each page as it was flipped through, the blond explained each one. "My college registration, my job paperwork, I'm even lined up for an internship. Once I graduate at the end of the year, I mean." Even after he finished inspecting the papers, he looked up at the twenty-one year old.

     "Why are you showing me these?"

     "You know why."

     He was right. 

     Stephen really wasn't stupid at all-- he knew that Kenny had brought these as qualifications, because he apparently really did want to denounce that name. He wanted to prove what it was hard for the older man to believe; that Kenny wasn't trailer trash, that Kenny wasn't headed down the same path as his parents and grandparents before him. 

     "I've been saving money. All the money I earn goes to paying rent then gets saved." Okay, that was a little bit of a lie-- Kenny sent some of his money to his sister, just a little bit every month. Other than that, though.... it was being saved. He took a deep breath then.

     "Let me marry Butters."

     "No. What makes you think he would say yes?" The question sounded biting, sounded harsh, like Stephen was angry at the fact that he was starting to be proven wrong. "What makes you think he's going to marry  _you_?"

     There was an unasked question-- what made Kenny think that Butters couldn't do  _better_. That he couldn't find someone whose name had a better reputation, who was making more money. The thought hurt, it really did, and all Kenny could do was lower his eyebrows, grit his teeth at the ground and mutter--

     "I don't  _know._ " 

     And the door was shut in his face again.

_____

**4, 5, 6.**

 

     The three next times Kenny came outside and waited, it was when Butters was out-- whether it be at classes or even out to the store, Kenny had managed to always dodge the happy-go-lucky young man in favor of waiting. Neither of the Stotches even opened the door; the reasoning was that if they didn't acknowledge him, maybe he'd go away. And he would eventually leave, but usually not because of anything he could control. One time it was a car almost hitting him (at least, they were sure it had  _almost_  hit him), another time it was the sprinklers turning on. 

     Linda had talked of finally getting that restraining order, then he would have to stay gone. If he showed up again after that they could just call the police and arrest him. 

     For some reason, Stephen found himself refusing to agree to that.

______

**7.**

 

     On the seventh attempt, it was raining, and Butters was home-- two things that made it surprising to see the drenched McCormick on his doorstep. 

     "What part of  _no_  don't you--"

     "What do I have to do." Stephen's eyes widened, and he expected Kenny to be staring at him with those determined eyes again, but this time he was looking at the ground, soppy-wet hair hanging over his eyes. It was finally a time when his parka would have come in handy, but he wasn't wearing it. The first outfit he had worn, the green button-down and slacks, was soaked and hanging loosely on him. "Is there anything I can do?  I know my family doesn't have the best rep. I know I don't have the best rep _._  But,  _please_ \--" And then he did finally look up.

     Maybe it was the rain, maybe his eyes really were puffy from tears or stress or the piles of stigma he's had for years and years on end, but it really did look like the rain was hiding the tracks of Kenneth McCormick's tears-- he pulled out a small black velvet box, choked out something that sounded like a sob, and those bright-blue eyes were pleading. 

     "--my parents aren't  _me_."

     It was like thunder struck. 

     And Stephen Stotch made a realization that Kenny McCormick in fact,  _wasn't_  Carol or Stuart McCormick. He was Kenneth McCormick, a soon-to-be college grad that had been dealt a rather shitty had of cards. He was a kid that had a helluva lot of determination and drive and potential and, well, he deserved to be treated like his own damn person. But--

     "No."

     The water-stained frown on the young blond's lips grew.

     "What do I have to do? How do I have to prove it to you that I'm good for him? I'll do anything, anything in the goddamn world." Kenny took a massive breath, shoulders hunching. "I just-- I just want to ask him to marry me. Let me. Please. Tell me anything I have to do. Anything I have to do and I'll do it. Will you please just-- tell me what it is."

     The silence was deafening, even with the sound of rain slapping against the pavement and what seemed like-- footsteps trotting down the steps. 

     "Dad, whatcha doin' at the do-- Ken?!" He was worried, terrified, of the dismal state that the young man at his doorstep was in-- Butters looked from Kenny to his father, and then back to Kenny. "Why're you drenched? You're gonna get a cold out there, you are, and when I'm takin' care of you I get to choose the soup ya eat, mister--"

     "Butters." Stephen didn't look from Kenny as he spoke. "Go upstairs."

     The young man, in his twenties, still listened to his father with complete obedience, but this time he stalled in his movements, stuttering a "But--" before his father cut him off again.

     "Kenny'll be up in a second. He has something to ask you." And when that familiar turquoise shirt disappeared up the stairs, all Stephen Stotch said before stepping aside with the door wide open was, "There's nothing you have to do." 

     It was the first time Kenny McCormick had smiled in weeks. 

**Author's Note:**

> is that tears? nah it's just gay in my eye


End file.
